


What is this Feeling?

by StrykingShadows



Category: Thomas Sanders
Genre: I Made A Thing, What is this feeling, Wicked - Freeform, a lone hamilton reference, agressive singing, but there's room for romance elsewhere, kind of?, platonic, songfic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:37:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9557441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrykingShadows/pseuds/StrykingShadows
Summary: If anyone were to ask the Prince, he would immediately insist that it was Anxiety’s fault.If anyone were to ask Anxiety (not that they would), he would shrug and ask if it were truly anyone else’s business.Either way, they somehow ended up aggressively singing out their emotions at each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based off foxyart's drawing [here](http://foxyarts.tumblr.com/post/156680445199/has-this-been-done-already-thatsthat24-you-like).

If anyone were to ask the Prince, he would immediately insist that it was Anxiety’s fault.

If anyone were to ask Anxiety (not that they would), he would shrug and ask if it were truly anyone else’s business.

Luckily, only Dad and Teacher-Guy bothered either of them often enough to ask that, and neither were particularly interested in the shenanigans the two counteractive mindsets tended to get up to.

Really, though, it _was_ the Prince’s fault. He was just too impulsive for his own good! He was the personification of Thomas’s hopes and the dreams- and thus, the optimism as well. Ever since the Disney-off between he and Anxiety, a strange idea had been nagging at him. _Was_ Anxiety befriendable? And even if he was, could it be possible that _he_ could be Anxiety’s companion? The two were entirely different mindsets, and there was no guarantee that they could get along for any amount of time- in fact, there was proof that they couldn’t.

Honestly, it was quite the conundrum. Nevertheless, the Prince was never one to do anything half way- it was a core trait from Thomas himself that they all carried.

But the narrator digresses. The narrator shall get back to the subject at hand.

That is to say, the Prince and the gallant journey he had embarked upon in order to ~~tame the beast~~ befriend Anxiety. He had no armor to speak of aside from the musical knowledge Thomas had gleaned throughout the years. Hopefully, that would be enough.

Alas, Anxiety would oft-times be rather unpredictable, so it was with trepidation that the Prince entered Anxiety’s part of the mindscape.

It wasn’t really that different from any other part of Thomas’s mind, just a little more…cramped. It made it a little more difficult to breathe, harder to think clearly, but the Prince was used to adapting to the less fanciful sides of the mind. The… _far_ less fanciful parts. (Yes, that was a direct jab at Anxiety, how does he _live_ with all this cluttered headspace?)

Strange though it may seem, they _were_ all part of one mind. This meant that when one had an idea, the other traits received an echo of the thought- this is what often lead to Dad and Teacher-Guy arguing over whether Thomas could responsibly handle a puppy. _Many_ puppies, in Dad’s arguments. Amongst other debates, but the puppy one was the most important, if one took asked the Prince’s opinion.

Because of this, the Prince was unsurprised to find Anxiety awaiting him with crossed arms and a bored, mildly irritated expression. The Prince instantly straightened and tugged sharply on the hem of his tunic to straighten any wrinkles. He raised a hand, grinning sheepishly as he waggled his fingers in a greeting.

“Hello, Anxiety,” he began, smile dying quickly as Anxiety shot him a withering glare. His hand dropped, slapping lightly against his side.

Anxiety sighed through his nose, arms uncrossing to stuff them in the pockets of his jeans. “Why are you here? I haven’t been any more active than usual lately,” which was still too much in the Prince’s opinion, but that was irrelevant at the moment, “so what insane idea could you have _possibly_ had in order to come here.”

The Prince huffed. Honestly, he didn’t get _that_ upset at Anxiety whenever he poked around Thomas’s mind. He was merely mildly irritated whenever that happened.

Anxiety raised an eyebrow as the Prince rocked back on his heels before catching himself. “Well, Anxiety,” the Prince spoke slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. “It occurs to me that we haven’t really… we don’t…” The Prince huffed and straightened his shoulders. “You and I do not talk that often, and as my opposite, I figure that should be remedied.”

“Okay, sure, dumb idea, but I have to ask- are we _really_ opposites?” Anxiety leaned in towards the Prince, a smirk playing at his lips. “Are any of us true opposites?”

The Prince had known this was a bad idea. Something about Anxiety’s smug attitude just rubbed him the wrong way every time they were in the same vicinity. Sometimes even when they weren’t.

_Why_ did he have this insane idea again?

With a light growl, the Prince pressed his hands together and inhaled, counting slowly to three before exhaling. He pointed, hands still pressed firmly together, at Anxiety. “I am optimism, you are pessimism. I am the representation of all of Thomas’s hopes and dreams, while you are the nightmares. I am bright and happy, and you drag down the mood whenever you appear.”

Something sinister curled across Anxiety’s face before his expression flattened again. He sneered. “What did you _want,_ Princey? To antagonize me? To sing a happy little song together? Did you want to _discuss our feelings_?”

Sarcasm bit deeply through Anxiety’s tone, causing irritation to well up within the Prince. But his words did bring to mind an idea. “Perhaps that would be best.”

Anxiety stilled. “…I’m sorry, what?”

“We could, mayhap, discuss our feelings like civilized people.” The Prince nodded, pleased with the plan. “We could figure out why you and I have always been so antagonistic towards one another.”

“Uh… Because we’re polar opposites?” Anxiety stared at Prince as if he were an imbecile. “You said so yourself. This is _stupid_. We loathe each other because I am everything that gets in your way, and you embody everything I can’t be.”

_Can’t be?_ While it was true indeed that Anxiety often wished he were anything else- that was no secret- the wording still took the Prince by surprise.

All the more reason to get their feelings out in the open, he supposed

_Loathing, hmm?_ The Prince steadily stalked towards Anxiety, who shank back a bit. _Best to start with honesty, I suppose._

“There was this feeling that I felt the moment I laid eyes on you. It was… sudden and… and rather _new._ ”

Anxiety scoffed, immediately picking up on the reference. “Really? You’re doing this?”

“My pulse was rushing.” The Prince stepped up to Anxiety, whose expression flickers nervously before he rolls his eyes.

“My head is reeling. Get to the point, Princey,” he drawls, slouching just a bit further to discreetly put some space between his face and the Prince’s.

The Prince slipped into character a bit, unable to help but get caught up in the song- or, what was supposed to be a song. They were more just… speaking in each other’s general direction. “My face is flushing!”

“Oh, we’re in present tense now?” Anxiety glared a bit as the Prince crowded his space _yet again_ , but obligingly joined in with the next line (after all- he was a part of Thomas. And Thomas Sanders was never one to back down from a song. Especially musicals.)

_“What is this feeling?”_ Anxiety finally stepped back and to the side as his voice mixed with the Prince’s, hoping to dodge the Prince and his need to be right in his face. What he didn’t expect was the Prince to immediately counter with his own step, send them in a half circle when Anxiety tried to back away once more. He scowled, unable to help tensing. “ _Fervid as a flame! Does it have a name?”_

The differences in tone were vastly different from each other, but the voices themselves were, of course, the exact same. Anxiety’s bored drawl tightened as his nerves kicked in when he found that, no matter what step he took, the Prince was right beside him, insistent on this “talking” stuff (even though they were _literally only singing a song from a popular musical this will help nothing.) (_ Heh. Popular.)

_“YeeeeeeeEEEEES.”_

_“Loathing!”_ They both practically spit the line, the Prince intentionally keeping abreast Anxiety simply to irritate him. Being actors at heart, the song had succeeded in drawing out the usual animosity- amplifying it, even. Satisfaction shot through the Prince as Anxiety seemingly gave up trying to distance himself and simply stuffed his hands in his pockets. “ _Unadulterated loathing!”_

The Prince swiped his fingers under his eyes to mimic Anxiety’s dark circles. “ _For your face_!”

“Your voice.” He dropped any semblance of inflection in his voice, hoping to throw the Prince off. Anxiety smirked in satisfaction as the Prince legitimately stilled in offense, then glared. He drew himself up as his hands fisted at his side.

“ _Your clothing_!”

“ _Let’s just say: I loathe it all!”_ They raised their voices in song once more, Anxiety continuing to smirk throughout the line (he knew it _infuriated_ the Prince and he loved it.) “ _Every little trai-“_

**_“Would you two shut up?!”_** Teacher-Guy pleaded from a less abstract part of the mind. “ _Some_ of us are actually trying to work here!”

The Prince and Anxiety fell silent, staring at each other in shock. The Prince sniffed condescendingly. “Rude.”

“I know, right?” Anxiety shrugged, raising an exasperated hand. “We weren’t _that_ loud.”

The Prince paused in consideration. “Well. Perhaps we were a _mite_ loud. Rude of him, nonetheless.”

Anxiety shot the Prince a look. “I don’t _do_ loud. We weren’t that loud.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, no, you’re correct, we weren’t that loud.”

A tiny glimmer lit in Anxiety’s eyes, masked only by a roll of his eyes. “Do you feel better now that you’ve got all that off your chest, _Princey?”_

“Actually…” The Prince grinned. “I do. And yourself?”

“Eh.” Anxiety shrugged and turned away. “Maybe.”

The Prince grinned.

* * *

“…you don’t _really_ loathe my voice, do you?”

“Aside from the fact that we have the _very same voice…_ No.”

“…Really?”

“Yes. _Now leave me alone.”_


End file.
